Just Like Heaven
by emerald-soco
Summary: Marissa hadn't ever really thought about heaven, but she read The Lovely Bones during her sophomore year and she'd always just assumed the narrator had the right idea. Oneshots, takes places after S3 finale. R&R!


**Just Like Heaven**

_You, strange as angels_

_Dancing in the deepest oceans_

_Twisting in the water_

_You're just like a dream_

_Goldfinger_

Marissa hadn't ever really thought about heaven, but she read _The Lovely Bones _during her sophomore year and she'd always just assumed the narrator had the right idea. Heaven was whatever you wanted it to be. So she guesses she'd kind of been expecting a glistening pool and an endless supply of fruity beverages and the promise of her boyfriend ringing the doorbell any minute.

She'd certainly never thought she'd see Johnny there. He looks the same, minus the dirt that stains his skater clothes and the gaping, bloody wound at the back of his skull. But she only gets a glimpse of that when he turns away from her and he's pretty good about keeping eye contact, so Marissa figures she can stay awhile.

It's peaceful here. Not at all where she'd expected to end up, but kind of nice. They sit on the dirt of the cliffs Johnny fell from and dangle their legs over the edge and it's like they're old friends, reenacting a verse of some lame country song.

"Do you think you're here because this is where you … you know." Marissa doesn't like to say the 'D' word. As long as she can't see the hole in his head and she remembers not to look down at her own disheveled appearance, she can pretend they are still alive and that feels pretty good.

Johnny shakes his head. "That doesn't make any sense," he points out. "This isn't anywhere close to where you crashed."

He's right. Marissa doesn't really remember the accident, just the overpowering smell of gasoline and something she thinks was probably her own scorched skin, but she knows it was along the road to the airport. There is a first-class ticket to Greece, blackened in spots, tucked into the pocket of her denim jacket; a constant reminder of where she was headed before she became unable to go anywhere.

"But still." She persists mostly because she can't think of anything else to say. Whenever silence falls between them, Johnny seems to flicker and dim before her eyes, and it's almost like she's alone. She's never been very good at being alone. "You fell from exactly this spot. Do you think it's like, a punishment? Being stuck here now?"

"No." He's calmer about the whole afterlife thing than she is. Maybe it's because he's had a longer time to get used to the uncertainty of it all. Maybe it's just that he doesn't have as much to miss as she does. "I feel … free. It's nice. Calming."

"Wouldn't you rather be surfing … or something?" she adds, because the t-shirt slogan is something they both recognize and she doesn't like to think about the material world they left behind.

He grins a little bit. "Or something. Why. What would you rather be doing?"

"Breathing." A phantom wind moves her hair, rustles the hem of her skirt, and Marissa thinks she would give anything to feel it brush her face. "I don't know. For all eternity?" It's too big of an idea to truly grasp. They have no concept of time here, the sun never moves beyond the low, reddish-gold glow of being almost set. "I guess this is good. As long as you're here with me."

Johnny closes his eyes. "You know, I would've died of happiness if you'd said something like that to me … before."

"What'd you die of instead?"

It's something she's wanted to ask him since waking up here, but she's avoided it because she knows how upset she'd be if he started digging into the details of her death scene. It's not something she wants to (she cringes here) live through again.

"Poor balance," Johnny answers. He shrugs, grimacing at the memory. Marissa wonders what it was like for him, to be conscious during the fall, to have those last few soaring moments to realize what was about to happen. She'd smelled burning rubber and heard the crunch of things she refused to identify and then, thankfully, blacked out. "I don't know. Stupidity. Vodka. A broken heart."

The words are soft, not an accusation, but the air between them vibrates. "I'm sorry, Johnny. About … everything. I wish it could have been different."

"Me, too," he admits. He looks away from her, towards the water he spent half his life in. "I wish a lot of things, though. Doesn't change anything."

"What else do you wish?"

In lieu of answering, he stands, poises himself at the cliff's edge. She wonders what he's staring so intently at, but is distracted by the fact that she now has a grotesque view of his wound. "Johnny. Your head."

Ignoring her, he says, "I wish you'd stay."

"I'm not going anywhere." A drop of blood falls onto her white skirt, then another. "Johnny. You're … you're bleeding."

"Nah." He looks over his shoulder and their eyes meet, his filled with an endless kind of sadness. She can see her own reflection in the depths of his misery. "You are."

Horrified, Marissa lifts her hand to her head. Her fingers come away wet and sticky, covered in her own blood. Trying not to panic, she takes a deep breath and freezes when the cold air she gulps in hurts her chest and the smell of seawater burns her nostrils. "Oh my God," she exhales, beginning to shiver. "What's happening?"

Johnny watches the goosebumps rise up on her arms and turns away. "I really wish you'd stay," he repeats, and then he throws himself over the edge.

"Johnny!" she screams, but the name doesn't make it out of her mouth, just the sound, and her wordless horror echoes off the waves that swallow him and ricochet uselessly back to her.

And then the waves recede and the sun drops out of sight and the wind picks up, huge gusts that should knock her down rushing past her, and Marissa shuts her eyes against the sting. When they fly open again, all on their own accord, there is a bright light shining into her retinas and a man in a paper mask leaning over her and she is still screaming soundlessly.

"We've got her," the doctor announces, and the surgical team assembled around the operating table all breathe in a sigh of relief and step back. "She's back."

"That's one, at least," a nurse sighs heavily as she leaves, "The boy was DOA."

Ryan. The memory of the crash resurfaces from the fuzzy edges of Marissa's brain: the image of Ryan's face above hers as he pulled her to safety, how his body seemed to cave in on itself as he collapsed in a fit of coughing and retching. Pain seeps in through the medicinal relief, coating her bones in an indescribable ache and bringing tears to her eyes.

Marissa hadn't ever really thought about hell, but her family and friends pour into her hospital room and exclaim over her good luck and she remembers how peaceful she felt sitting with Johnny and the only boy she ever loved is lowered into the ground on the other side of town, and she thinks she might be in it.

Fin

A/N: Whew! Bet you didn't see that coming! 'Cause I sure didn't, lol. I had no idea where that story was going, and that wasn't even close to the direction I intended it to take, but hopefully it still worked! I can't believe how much I love writing about Marissa now that she's dead. Anyway, as always, please leave me a review! Hope you enjoyed.


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